


Proving A Point

by eyeus



Series: Of Croquillants and Apple π [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeus/pseuds/eyeus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Harold find mathematical precision in the discussion of pies and hugs.</p>
<p>Coda to the Bakery AU story <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/835428"><b><i>A Lifetime For A Day</i></b></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proving A Point

**Author's Note:**

> The pie featured in this story was inspired by this one [here](http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y283/slamduncan21/stuff%20to%20ul%20to%20sites/450_PiPie.jpg).

~

“Sick of croquillants already?” John asks, feigning surprise as he eyes the untouched platter by Harold’s keyboard.

“Perhaps my decision to buy out the store’s supply of them could be deemed…unwise.” Harold’s admission, while shameful, isn’t enough for him to turn away from his multiple screens, as he pulls up banking history and property purchase records both for their latest number.

Not even the lure of the apple pie cooling nearby holds enough promise for him to take pause in his work. It’s a pie with the _π_ symbol pressed neatly out of the top, a design John had decided on only after ruling out a lattice-type crust top, carved leaves and vines, or something equally fancy. He figured Harold would appreciate this more. 

After all, sometimes keeping it simple works best. 

Failing to get a rise out of Harold, John sighs and carves off a sliver of the pie crust. He’s in the middle of feeding it to Bear when Harold turns and says, “Stop that, he’ll get fat.” 

“Attack dogs don’t _get_ fat,” John says stoutly. It must be his imagination that Harold’s gaze pauses pointedly on John’s recently softer midsection with disapproval. “You’re just jealous I didn’t let you try the pie first.”

“An incorrect assumption, Mr. Reese,” says Harold, turning back to his computer, but when John sets a piece of the gently-browned pastry down by his elbow, Harold’s hands still over the keyboard. “What’s this?”

“A peace offering,” John grins. “Have a taste.”

Harold chips off a neat corner of the slice, enough to send the scent of crisp apple filling and rich golden crust wafting into the air. “Hm. Acceptable,” he says after swallowing, though familiarity and experience with Harold’s dry verdicts suggest otherwise. 

“Are you sure?” John asks. “Try another bite.”

Harold sighs, forking another piece into his mouth and chewing slowly. “I really don’t see what difference—”

Without warning, John swoops down to kiss him, licking into Harold’s mouth and tasting the faint traces of cinnamon, apples, and _Harold_. 

“You’re right,” says John, chasing the hint of honey filling onto Harold’s tongue. “Needs more sweetness.” He flicks his tongue against Harold’s, coaxing him into a fuller, more proper kiss. “Needs more _me_ ,” he adds boldly. 

Suddenly, he’s not so sure they’re talking about the pie anymore.

Harold shakes his head with a sigh. “You are _incorrigible_ ,” he says with narrowed eyes, but his lips against John’s mouth part in a smile, and he stands to pull John in by the waist, close, closer, the circumference of Harold’s arms around him shrinking until the diameter between them falls to zero.

“Harold, are we—” John’s familiar enough with the basics of math to know that the circumference of a circle is calculated by _π x d_ (where _d_ is the diameter), and when _d_ = 0, the circle is not a circle any more but a—

“Just proving a _point_ ,” replies Harold, pressed flush against him. He hums as his hands slip teasingly beneath John’s suit jacket, a pleased, thoughtful sound; it means John has _understood_ , and that they are, for one of countless many times, speaking the same, precise language.


End file.
